


Je Suis Ruin

by neerdowellwolf



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Coach/Player Relationship, F/M, Girl!Tanger, Rule 63, Vaginal Sex, Women in the NHL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neerdowellwolf/pseuds/neerdowellwolf
Summary: “You know,” Sully says when he pulls away from kissing her. “It would be a lot easier to avoid getting caught if we didn't only do this on the road.”Kris hums as he kisses her neck. “Yes, but then it is real. Really us.”Sully leans back to look at her. She loves his face like this, so serious. “So you what, pretend I’m some random businessman you picked up at the hotel bar?”She chuckles and pulls at his tie, flinging it across the room. That’s not quite it. It isn't like she fantasizes he’s someone else, she pretends this is something she can have. She doesn’t tell him that though, just starts on the buttons of his still crisply pressed shirt.





	Je Suis Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> I've read [two minutes for diving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7083031) approximately a hundred times and it absolutely ruined me sexually. I had to write my own version of this pair.
> 
> If you're wondering what they might look like being cute together, please allow me to point you [HERE](https://hunkgame.tumblr.com/post/184518541283/intermissionpenguins-coachs-corner-letang) and [HERE](https://hunkgame.tumblr.com/post/184566901968/puckducky-coaching-love)

“You know,” Sully says when he pulls away from kissing her. “It would be a lot easier to avoid getting caught if we didn't only do this on the road.”

Kris hums as he kisses her neck. “Yes, but then it is real. Really us.”

Sully leans back to look at her. She loves his face like this, so serious. “So you what, pretend I’m some random businessman you picked up at the hotel bar?”

She chuckles and pulls at his tie, flinging it across the room. That’s not quite it. It isn't like she fantasizes he’s someone else, it's that she pretends this is something she can have. She doesn’t tell him that though, just starts on the buttons of his still crisply pressed shirt. 

He slips his hands under her top, sliding them over her back. “Who should I pretend you are then?”

“Mmmm,” she hums and pushes his shirt open. “Imagine I’m the number one D on a different team.”

“So, you’re the pain in some other coach’s ass?”

“Could be,” she murmurs. He takes his hands back and lets her shove his shirt off his shoulders. It’s something she’s always liked about him, he lets her drive without making her do all the work. Most men don’t have the right balance, either pushing back when she takes the lead or going so limp and pliable there’s no edge. He bends, but he doesn’t break. 

He slides his hands back under her shirt and pushes up until she’s forced to lift her hands above her head. 

“So this other player you're supposed to be,” he murmurs in her ear. “She any good?” He unhooks her bra and pulls the straps off her shoulders. 

Kris leans into him, relishing the feeling of his soft undershirt against her nipples. “Oh, she's elite,” she whispers against his lips. 

The first time they'd done this she hadn't let him take his tie off, she'd undone his pants just enough to get his cock out, rode him like that. She thought about it a lot, her naked and him still in his game day suit. 

“I must have a type,” he says and finally kisses her, wrapping his arms around her body. He's not necessarily bigger than her, but he's solid and she likes the strength in his arms. 

She's been wet for a while, since he poured himself a glass of wine and took a sip without offering her any. She grinds against him, he's hard, but he doesn't meet her pressure.

“You just love to ruin my slacks.” His voice is gravelly and she laughs, tossing her head back and letting him drag his lips across her neck. 

“Send me the dry cleaning bill.” He laughs as he lifts her easily and deposits her on her back. He pulls his shirt off and leans back over her to kiss her again. 

Sully kisses like he does most things, focused but not too intense. She likes it, likes how easy it is to make him laugh, even when they're half naked. 

“Sully, come let's have it.”

“Let's have it?” He laughs and rolls his eyes. 

“Oui,” she purrs. “Baise-moi déjà.”

“Don't sass me, Tanger.” He scrapes his teeth across her breast in a way that makes her shiver. His hair is hard from the product he uses, but she runs her fingers through it anyway as he sucks her nipple into his mouth. 

She closes her eyes and relaxes into the bedspread. Her shoulder is aching and there's a bruise spreading across her ribs, but she releases a long breath and focuses on the crisp sheets and the pleasure from Sully as he flicks his tongue across her nipple. 

He huffs a laugh across her belly as he pulls her sweats and panties down her hips. “Don't fall asleep on me either.”

“That was one time.” She lifts her hips to help him. 

He stands and she opens her eyes to watch him undo his belt and push his pants off. “I was inside you.”

She pushes at his thigh with her toes. “I'm sure that happens to many people.”

“You were on top.” 

“Maybe if you didn't rely on me for so many minutes.” He rolls his eyes and pulls a condom out of his suitcase. She presses her thighs together as she watches him roll it onto himself. 

“I thought you didn't play for me.” He spreads her legs apart, his wide palms against the soft skin of her thighs. 

“Yes, my coach, he is a very old man, works me so hard.” 

He tugs lightly at the hair at the base of her skull and leaves his hand there. “I think you like getting worked hard.” 

He pushes into her hard and fast, just like she likes it. 

She whispers filth into his ear in French, partly because she's tired and it's easier, but also because she knows it makes him crazy.

Sully pumps his hips slowly, letting her feel every inch of him. Mostly she wants it rougher than this, but their flight was long and sometimes she likes it when he takes it slow with her. 

She wraps her arms around his back, holding him close. His breath is warm on her face where he presses his nose against her temple. 

“Are you close?” He asks. 

She almost quips that he wishes, but she can feel that even though she hasn't been focusing on it, she is. “Mmmm yeah.” 

He rolls them over, slipping out of her as they go. She grips the condom as she straddles him and takes him deep again. She sits back on his thighs and rolls her hips slowly chasing her own orgasm. 

He tweaks her nipple and that's what sends her over the edge, electricity surging through her body. She slumps across his chest. “Give me a minute, I'll take care of you.”

She feels his laugh in his chest. “I already finished, Tanger. You were a little distracted.”

“Good good.” She buries her nose in his neck where it's warm. She's so tired her eyelids slip shut. 

“Tanger.” Sully says. “Kris, come on.”

She sighs and rolls off him. 

“Are you staying?” 

She considers for a moment. Practice isn't until 11, so she could sleep in a little if she went back to her own room, but it's warm here and she doesn't really want to leave. “Yeah, I'll stay.”

He stands up. “Come on then, let's get ready for bed.”

“I'm always ready for bed.” 

“I bet you are,” he says. She knows he's tired because his accent is stronger than normal. “You're worse than my cat.”

Kris doesn't mind getting ready with him. He always has an extra toothbrush for her and his taste in skincare is almost as expensive as hers. 

When they're settled in bed, the lights off and his alarm set, she shifts to her side. 

“Why is it you don't worry that this,” she pauses, searching for how to say it in English. He watches her, his eyes unreadable. “About this being bad for my game?”

He smirks. “Because you don't let anything affect your hockey.”

He strokes her face softly with the back of his fingertips and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You don't worry I will stop listening to you.” They've never talked about this, but Kris suddenly needs to know. 

“That would require you to ever listen to me.” His smile fades a little and he pulls his hand back. “Kris, we can stop if you want. Go back to just like before. I promise.”

“I didn't say I wanted to stop,” Kris snaps. Sully doesn't reach his hand back out, so she grabs it and places it back on her face, leans into his palm. “I just, how did you know it would be ok?”

“I trust you,” he says like it's obvious. Like it doesn't take him anything to admit. 

Kris feels panicked suddenly. “You sound like you're waiting until I retire so we can be together or something.” She's aiming for cruel but she loses steam halfway through. He doesn't look surprised or embarrassed. If Kris had to guess she thinks he looks resigned. 

“I've thought about it.”

“Oh,” she says. She wants to say something biting and high tail it, but she's exhausted and his hand feels warm on her cheek. 

“It's fine if you don't want that,” he says, his eyes stay calm and focused. “You have plenty of time to decide.”

Kris thinks about her last concussion. How terrifying it had been, how she hadn’t let Sully come over to check on her. “What if it's not that long?”

“Kris,” he takes a small breath through his nose. “It's fine whatever you want.” She wants him to lie and guarantee she'll play for as long as she wants, but he was a player, he knows you don't always choose when you walk away. 

“I think when I'm done, I want to coach.”

“You dont say?” He slips his other hand under his neck and tilts his head to look at her. 

“Coaching isn't retired.” 

“No,” he says, “it isn't” 

Early on he'd told her not to come to him still angry from a game. It enraged her at first, like being spoken to like a child. She'd liked to fuck out the aggression she carried off the ice, but he said he wasn't interested in working that out with her in bed, that she could always find someone else if that's what she wanted. 

She did, plenty of times, but slowly she found she preferred taking a few extra minutes in the shower to breath and let go before texting him. 

She feels like she should be talking herself out of this instead of leaning into the warmth of his body and saying, “I want you to see my house.”

He smirks. “I've seen your house, Tanger.” 

“I mean really see it, upstairs.”

He smiles like he knows what this means, from her. “I'll be there.”


End file.
